


Rickyl Drabbles

by Adry1412



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Bad Relationship, Bathroom Sex, Blood, Campfire stories, Camping, Cheating, Drabbles, Drug Abuse, Gambling, Ghosts, Hippie!Rickyl, M/M, New Jersey, Out coursing for sex, Recreational Drug Use, Scary Stories, Shane is a good sex friend lol, Smut, Summer of Love - Freeform, True Murder Story, bittersweet endings, blowjob, bottom!daryl, domestic AU, safe sex, top!rick, wandering finger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adry1412/pseuds/Adry1412
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of drabbles about Rickyl!<br/>Every chapter is something different and tags will update if necessary. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some full on smut!! Yayy me!!  
> Still pretty angsty but hey. ;)  
> Huge thanks to Brianna for being an absolute angel and always betaing my fics haha! I love you hun! Enjoy the smut! ^^

Daryl was a hot mess.  
There was no other way to put it. With his arm swung around Rick's neck, tight blue shirt riding up, exposing his stomach, it was easy to see. Glassy eyes lulling and falling closed every few seconds, breath stinking of whiskey laced with some fruity syrup, it was ridiculous.  
Rick nows he shouldn't be dancing with him. Every time they dance, they end up in bed together, Daryl gone before the sun even rises but he knows he's addicted and he knows he can't say no, sohere he is. One tanned hand holding onto thin, exposed hips, swaying precariously with the hypnotic music filling the dim, blue lite room. The other resides on Daryl's ass, not that the man seems to mind, in fact, he seems to like it. He wiggles and laughs and runs into the hand, trying to get Rick to squeeze him, to be rougher.  
He knows Daryl hasn't slept in days, his eyes lined in thick bags and hair smelling like sweat. He's been staying with his brother, so Rick has heard, who has no interest in helping his younger brother better himself. It makes Rick's blood boil but he sighs, letting the music wash over him and watching Daryl's eyes sink close before popping open, red lining the gorgeous baby blues that take Rick's breath away. He's taking the pills again, drinking more than he should. It breaks the ex-cop's heart but there's nothing he can do. Daryl doesn't want help.  
So Rick doesn't say anything when the man growls in his ear something about the bathroom and grabs his hand, pulling eagerly.  
\---  
Rick doesn't say anything when Daryl is kneeling in front of him in the dirty handicap stall, slender hands unbuckling his pants and working the open enough to let Rick's cock pop out. He lets Daryl work his tongue up the length until he takes the head into his mouth and moans loud around the length sliding past his lips. He runs his fingers through the greasy hair that frames his on-again off-again lover's face perfectly. Small knots catching on his fingers that he pulls through and that make Daryl moan with the slip sting.  
He lets a groan slip past his lips and whispers Daryl's name, making the younger man look up with those gorgeous, hazy blue eyes. They're not here. They're a million miles away and Rick hates how it all turns him on just the same. He throws his head back when Daryl takes him into his throat, swallowing around him, nothing but wet, clenching heat around his cock and Rick swears he won't last. He tries to pull Daryl back but he's latched on, moaning as loud as his closed throat will allow. He smirks though and slides off, hands still working Rick.  
"See, Rick. No gag reflex."  
Rick feels sick. He swallows hard over the lump of bile in his throat and nods. He knows Daryl's trying to be sexy but it doesn't work, not when the man has his head in the clouds and Rick can only imagine how many other people the blue eyed beauty has said those words too. But his mind drifts when Daryl thumbs at his slit, collecting pre-cum before popping the digit into his mouth, sucking loudly, eyes closing softly, savoring the salty liquid.  
Rick's possessive, he knows he is. He wants to claim Daryl, kiss and bite his neck until stark bruises stood out against pale skin, forming a collar of lust and ownership for all the world to see. He wants to bring Daryl home and throw him onto the bed, licking and kissing every inch of the younger man's body until it became to much and they would explode; blood and love dripping onto each other. He wants to take Daryl away, lock in him a tower somewhere where no one but Rick would ever see the gorgeous man how Rick is seeing him now, down on knobby knees wanting to taste everything Rick has to offer him. No, this sight would only be for Rick and Rick alone.  
\---  
But Daryl would never allow that.  
He would sooner turn his nose up and laugh at Rick before he allowed such things to happen. He claimed he didn't need help, that he couldn't be held down. But Rick could see the split second of doubt in his own words before he'd shake his head, hair swinging with the movement, and laugh. He'll turn and reach in his pocket, taking out another pink pills and dry swallowing before leaning in and kissing Rick again.  
It's how it always happens and Rick tries time and time again to reach Daryl, to make him see that life with him would be better. But he's weak. He should tell Daryl to stop when he pulls his pants the rest of the way down, standing and kissing him before spitting onto his hand and reaching down to stroke Rick. Rick watches as he turns, pulling his own pants down and arching his back. It's intoxicating for Rick so see Daryl suck on his fingers, reaching behind to finger his pretty little pink hole. One thin finger becomes two and he's moaning, gripping the bar with a shaky hand, head turned towards Rick, staring and begging with distant, teary eyes.  
Rick knows better than to listen when Daryl begs for him to fill him with cum. He fishes in his pocket for a condom, ripping it open with his teeth and large, amazingly steady fingers. He feels his heart drumming loud in his ears and vibrating every inch of skin as he rolls the condom down his cock, stroking himself a few times as he opens another packet, this time lube.  
He knows Daryl doesn't care. The man would take Rick bare and dry before admitting that he enjoyed the small precautions that the older man always took. He'd put himself through a world of pain if it meant he didn't have to admit that he needed help, that he enjoyed how much Rick cared for him. That he enjoyed being taken care of. Rick knew he was fiercely independent, strong headed and stubborn, his life before having made his walls high and hard to break.  
It broke the ex-cop's heart. Every moment he spent with Daryl broke off another piece his heart as much as it feed his cock. His mind always ends up blank when he feels that tight, wet heat envelop his member; finds himself sinking deeper and deeper into the sickly thin man until he bottoms out, flush against those sinful hips.  
He can't help the growl that escapes through his clenched teeth when Daryl rocks back, begging for more. It's addictive, the push and pull of his cock deep inside his lover, rim catching and sucking him back in like that sweet mouth had done earlier. He watches his cock sliding in and out of the trembling hole and feels the blinding beat building in his lower stomach and he knows he won't last long and judging by the moans and gasps coming from Daryl, he won't last either.  
So he changes the pace, fast and harder upon Daryl's stuttered request, aiming towards that spot that makes his lover scream. And boy does he want to make Daryl scream. The music is loud, loud enough to bang on the door and disguise any actions that may be happening inside the cramped bathroom, hidden away from the mass of people dancing and singing. It's complete bliss, sweat coating Rick's forehead and making his hands slip on Daryl's hips before he tightens his grip. The broken light flickers, bathing them in blue light, Daryl's pale skin glowing under him and making everything have a lag and images slowing with a visual echo. It's incredible and Rick folds over the screaming man, spilling deep inside, filling the condom with his seed. Daryl groans loud and shouts when he feels Rick swell and explode, his own cock spilling out and onto the dirty, graffitied wall. He clenches tight, pulling another spurt and cut off gasp from Rick, making him thrust shallowly into Daryl's spent body.  
He pauses, catching his breath before pulling out and tearing the rubber off his spent cock. He throws it aside, barely managing hitting the mini trash can next to the stained toilet. Everything rushes back, the pills, the booze, the lustful nights he's spent with Daryl and the morning waking up to an empty bed, not so much as a note left behind.  
He feels sick and he hold his hand over his mouth to suppress the vomit when Daryl laughs. He's leaning against the wall, smile stretching his thin skin over pronounced cheekbones, and Rick swears it's about to tear. A hysterical laugh reaches his throat before they're both laughing, deep and hearty and it's ridiculous. Two men laughing after sharing such a possibly intimate moment, but it's necessary. And Rick feels that feeling in his chest, the one he wishes would always stay. He thinks it's love, but Daryl claims otherwise.  
And just as soon as it happened, it's done. Pants are pulled up and zipped and one last heated kiss is shared before Rick is walking to his car, Daryl behind him ready to hop in the pick up his brother has come to collect him in.  
It's not the end. Rick will come back in a few days and Daryl will be there, dancing and shaking and popping pills until he can't see straight. It's sickening, how many times Rick has fallen into this cycle that he swears he'll one day break. But Daryl doesn't want that. And Rick can't convince his hard headed lover otherwise. So he goes home, crawls into bed, and hopes. Let's his prayers and pleads drift him off to sleep until he can see the amazing, dangerous, and venomous man again.


	2. The Finger Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl gets frisky during a romp in the sheets and it takes an unexpected turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this idea for a while now but didn't know about writing it as it's completely different from what I usually write and its complete smut.  
> I hope y'all enjoy it!!

"You like that, baby? Like taking my fucking cock? God, you look so good on your back. Nice and open for me, huh, sweetheart?"  
Daryl can't help but to blush at Rick's words, the red spreading over his cheekbones and down his chest. For such a southern gentleman, Rick has the filthiest mouth he's ever seen on a man. Sure, it's only in bed and sure, it's only with Daryl but those lust filled words still had to have come from somewhere.  
With those dark curls hanging on his sweaty forehead, eyes half lidded and intense, Daryl can't help but to stare. Rick is best like this, in total control. Strong shoulders and large hands holding Daryl's hips close and up, tilting them at that perfect angle to hit that sweet spot that makes Daryl lose it. He's addicted to the full feeling of Rick invading his body and that half crazed looked in his lover's eyes. He's addicted to the feeling of giving up complete control to his boyfriend, letting Rick have his way with Daryl's body, because he knows that his lover will take care of him. He will push all the right buttons that arch Daryl's back, bring tears to his eyes, and make he come untouched.  
Some days were more intense than others. Some days Rick was a desperate fiend, pushing Daryl's head down and his ass up, taking what he wants from the younger man and only stroking Daryl to orgasm after he, himself, is completely satisfied. Other days he's gentle, sweet and passionate when he runs his hands over Daryl's sides and face, loving kisses and barely there hip movements bringing them both to the edge before leaping.  
And still other days, it was just normal, everyday sex, almost boring. Days like today. Even with Rick's filthy words and bruising kisses, he knows Rick's mind's isn't in the game. It's endearing, and Daryl is honored that his boyfriend is trying so hard to pleasure him, to make him come. He knows Rick had had a rough day at work, filing endless amounts of paperwork had made his sweet boyfriend exhausted, mentally drained yet eager to stay positive. He had taken Daryl to bed right after dinner, a gentle hand on his lower back and a weak attempt at arousing Daryl with a pinch on his ass.

\---  
He hates to admit it, but he can feel that Rick isn't as hard as usual. He pushing forward though, through it all, and trying desperate to bring Daryl over the edge.  
He's aiming for that sweet spot, that bundle of nerves that make him eyes roll back. As much as he hates that Rick isn't enjoying himself, Daryl can't help but moan. The assault on his most sensitive spot making him burn from the inside out. It's almost painful how good it feels and Daryl's eyes snap open when the idea strikes him.

Now, him and Rick had reached an agreement, on their relationship, a long time ago. Nearly three years together and they were pretty set in their routine; Rick was never the receiver, only the pitcher, and Daryl had accepted his position with a wide grin and complete eagerness. They had experimented plenty of times, different positions and toys, but no matter what they did, Rick was strictly the top.  
Daryl was more than happy with this and if he was being honest, he doubted he'd ever want to give up the feel of being stretched and filled to the brim.  
He steels himself for the possible rejection and takes a deep breath.

His hand starts on its mission and he listens for any indication that Rick knows his plan.  
Nothing yet.  
He walks his fingers down Rick's back, sweat covered and slippery, fingers like a little man, one step in front of the other.  
"Mmm, you giving me a back massage, sweetheart?"  
He almost laughs out loud, fingers only stuttering for a moment. Lower and lower they walk and Daryl prays this is a good idea. He knows how good it feels for him when Rick fucks against his prostate, either with fingers of his gorgeous cock, pleasure having him leak and gasp and moan until he's nothing but a trembling mess.  
He draws his index finger up, licking it when Rick has his eyes closed, before being it back down. He says a silent prayer before slipping it in.

Rick's reaction is instant, eyes wide and clenching, the movement causing him to dig deeper into Daryl. He shouts as Daryl digs a little deeper, past the tight ring of muscle, curses slipping out his mouth.  
God, it's blinding. Rick starts thrusting and, in an attempt to escape the digit, grounds his cock into his lover. Daryl doesn't stop, keeps working his finger in as Rick rocks against him, unbelievably deep, until he reaches that spot inside his dominate lover.  
Rick pauses, hips stuttering and mouth opening slightly as he stares down at Daryl. His eyes flutter and brow furrows in a look that is almost pain, but ultimately pure, blinding pleasure. He starts to thrust with complete abandon, rocking back onto his boyfriend's thin finger. Cock diamond hard and pulsating as it hits spots Daryl didn't even know he had. He's screaming and Rick's panting, hard and hot, against his collarbone, teeth sinking in and sucking a nasty bruise on blush covered skin.  
Daryl smirks, breathing erratic rubbing his finger into that bundle that's making Rick groan; his other hand clawing at the cop's back, leaving red welted lines in its wake. Rick's moaning loud, chest rumbling and mouth against Daryl's shoulder, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into the tight, wet hole behind Daryl's legs until he swears he's being split in two.  
Rick's close, an endless chorus of 'yes' and 'goddamn' and 'more', spilling from his mouth. Daryl drags his lover's head up, one handed, and kisses him deep. He starts to come when he pressed his finger harder against Rick's prostate and the man shouts, cock shooting his seed deep inside of the mechanic. It's too much, his whole body shaking when Rick pumps in and out a few more times, draining every last drop of his come into Daryl and pulling everything he could from the man.

\---  
They lay, side by side, as they start to come down. Breaths heavy and deep, sweat sticking to both of their bodies and hair, vivid replays of what had occurred rushing through both their minds.  
Daryl speaks first, turning his head to watch his lover's expression. "So... Was it good for you too?"  
A few moments pass, nervousness inching down Daryl's spine as he waits for Rick's response. Just as he's about to panic, ready to jump up and run right out the house, Rick laughs. Not his usual full bellied laugh, but a nonsensical one, one that stemmed from disbelief and unexpected humor.  
"I don't know where you got that idea from, or what made you think I'd like it...." He turns to look at his worried lover's face, "But it felt amazing."  
Daryl's stunned, eyes and mouth wide. "Really?"  
"Yep. But that's as far as you'll ever be going, you hear me?"  
They laugh together, rolling onto sides to stare into matching blue eyes and steal kisses between giggles.


	3. Summer of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer of Love, 1967.  
> Rick meets a beautiful man that touches his heart and falls in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in school and suppost to be learning but lol  
> Enjoy some hippie Rickyl!!

The year is 1967. The summer of love is in full swing and Rick is sitting on a dock in San Francisco.  
It's early in the morning, sun rising behind him and giving the ocean an orange glow that swirls with the sweet waves and ripples. No ones awake except a few sailors getting ready to push out to get this morning's fish. A few dock men lift crates while the black haired man strums gentle on his guitar.  
It's an easy song, a few chords being plucked into a tune he has yet to know the words too. He hums a little and let's the world wake up around him.

He doesn't notice the brown haired man at first. Gentle twirls and a flowy blue tunic over long legs spinning to the music.  
Rick smiles, playing louder as bare feet creep closer, stepping in tune. The man is bopping his head, dark eye lids closed as he enjoys the soft guitar song, lips quirked slightly and peacefully. A crown of soft, pastel flowers sit at the top of messy chestnut hair, the pale pinks and brown hair flowing gold in the sunrise. He's gorgeous and Rick feels his cheeks heat up, fingers working to keep the tune going as long as they can so the thin man will keep dancing.

He stops when the song does and watches as the man opens his eyes, bright blues matching Rick's as he smiles wider, white teeth peeking through. Rick watches as the man looks out to sea once before spreading his arms and falling backwards off the dock.  
He jumps, pushing his guitar to the side and peeking over the side. The water was high, at Rick's feet while he had been playing. The pale, flushed man resurfaces, flowers drenched and falling off, catching waves and spreading around the man's crown and under the dock. He laughs and before Rick notices, he's laughing too.  
A gentle hand extended and accepted when he helps the man back up, drops falling off his friend and painting the hardwood dock in dark brown circles.

They sit on the dock, Daryl's head in Rick's lap as they talk.  
Tan fingers brushing the pale man's damp hair from his face and gentle whispers shared between them. Songs sang together while the wiry man spun and hummed along, bright smiles on stretching their faces and making their cheeks hurt. Soft kisses were shared, their lips fitting together as perfectly as their hands, laying sweetly on their laps, fingertips stroking each other's. Rick had slipped his tongue into the man's mouth and was meet with giggles, blue eyes sparkling with mirth.  
They fall asleep like that, two men curled against each other on a piece of wood at the end of the world, the day disappearing with the sun on the horizon. Daryl's head in Rick's chest, arm around his waist and Rick's around his shoulders and holding his hand.

Rick woke up to a cold chill running up his spine. The dark night's breeze making his skin prickle and jaw tremble.  
He looked for his lover, the man now no where to be found. There wasn't any note, no trace the man had even been there. The dark wet spots on the dock gone and no sound of gentle feet on the sea kissed wood. Rick felt awful, heartbreak and anger battle for dominance in his chest while his eyes tickled with hot tears.  
He swiped at his eyes, hand brushing something in his hair, dislodging it from his unruly curls.  
A flower.  
A pale pink flower tucked behind his ear and into the dark black hair.

He smiles, tears spilling and wetting his face. He places the flower back into his hair and puts the guitar around his neck.  
He turns to look at the dark ocean once more before turning towards land, feet kicking up and bouncing in step with the words he's screaming over the gentle guitar tune's. A joyous smile spreading his face at the memory of his sweet, flower boy.


	4. Venting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: domestic abuse, fighting, blood, cheating, gambling, stuff like that
> 
> Venting drabble; very dark and upsetting. I'm sorry in advanced!!

Kitchen cluttered, plates shattered on the floor, window curtain pulled half off, only a few hinges left, stove still lit. Vacant, distant eyes surrounded by grey bags and splashes of crimson, same as his knuckles and the butt of the cigarette between clumsy, trembling fingers. It burns closer to the filter, eyes unblinking when it reaches the tips of his middle and index fingers and he puts it out on what's left of the glass ashtray. He wipes his hair to the side, greasy and saturated in places with tacky blood.  
The filthy room is bathed in a warm, yellow light as the sun rises in the East, bathing his back in light and casts an angelic hue around the thin brunet.

His lover sits at the table opposite him, pupils pinpointed, swarmed by bright blue in the glittery early morning sun. The cop's face is bruised, though not as purple as his own, greying beard covered in blood. He won't meet his eyes, just keeps them downcast at the broken flower vase, pink roses now scattered and shredded, water dripping over the side of the table. No words leave his bruised, swollen lips and the only sound around is the quiet buzz from the refrigerator and the drip, drip, drip of water and blood from the dark wood table onto linoleum floors.

He reaches for another cigarette from the near empty, half bent box, bringing the crooked smoke to his trembling lips and lights it with shaky hands and a dying lighter, taking a few flicks to finally produce a small, weak flame. His lover's eyes flick up to him, a million thoughts filtering down into nothing.  
"Smoking's bad for you."  
"Fuck you."  
They don't say anything else, just let the angry whispers hang in the air between them, any movement breaking the stillness.

\---

It hadn't meant to be like this.  
None of this was suppose to happen. Yet it did.  
Money wasn't a problem, until it was. Until the cop's gambling got the best of him and he was in a huge amount of debt to the local casino. Cheating wasn't a problem, until the mechanic was caught in bed with the cop's best friend.

Their demons collided, fists flying and blood splashing in every direction, tears mixing on each other's faces. Words stinging and hurting more than any punch or kick ever could. The night before had seemed like a dream, a nightmare only proved real with the trail of broken objects and askew furniture around their small house.  
Now there was nothing. No money left in the bank and no trust between the two, broken men.

So they just look at each other. Eyes blurred and not quite seeing each other, just seeing the lies and bruises that have marred their relationship.  
"How long?"  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
Rick just sighs, pinching the bridge of his broken nose, smearing the blood. Daryl puts out his cigarette, half shattered ashtray cracking a little more.  
"Why Shane?"  
"Why weren't you here?"  
"I was working."  
"Your shitty fucking luck at that goddamn casino."  
Rick slams his hand down, anger bubbling but not spilling, now anymore, not after last night, and not even a damn flinch from his lover. They're exhausted, he knows it.

So when they stand, Rick knows it's not to fight. There's no fight left in them, they're both empty, broken.  
Yet they meet in the middle, fractured lips barely fitting together anymore, damaged from the lies that had chipped their teeth and burned their lips. Shaking, blood hands grabbing onto hips and wrapping around tense shoulders. Rick holds his lover against the table, stopping briefly to sweep his arms across to clear it of its broken glass, dying flowers, and cigarette butts.  
He pushes Daryl down, greed and pain mixing in their heated kisses. Rough hands grabbing and taking what they want from each other, leaving burned skin in their wakes. The blood smears and mixes across whatever miraculously clear skin is left, clothes ripped off and left in rags in piles on the dirty floor.

Blood and spit as lubricant, hasty prep so it'll hurt, and that's what they want, what they need. To hurt and take and claw and fight and rip each other's skins until nothing is left except their lies and deceits, secrets and sins bared out in the open for the world to see.

It's feral, hard and fast and they claw at each other, bruises and long thin cuts line Rick's back and Daryl's hips. Brows furrowed in anger, hips slamming and filling the silent kitchen with the obscene noise of skin on skin. Daryl's screaming, his purpled throat struggling around Rick's large hand and Rick has to shout when Daryl's teeth sink into his shoulder, leaving teeth shaped marks reminiscent of a horror movie effect.  
Daryl's hand thread through his hair, almost tenderly, before grabbing hard and pulling back hard enough to rip another groan from the cop. He grabs his husband's arm, pulling it from his hair and pinning it hard against the wood table, wedding ring shinning bright in the sunlight.  
Rick growls, forcing the finger into his own mouth and dragging the ring off its bony home. He spits it across the room, the small plinging noise mixing with Daryl's cries as his finger bleeds and Rick thrusts harder into his broken, bruised body.  
A bloody smack to his face and a crushing kiss and Daryl is coming, teeth locking Rick's lip in place as he spills onto his stomach. He can't help but follow, body never getting tired of how tight and hot his husband is. The clenching walls pulling his orgasm from deep inside his gut and knocking the wind out of him.

They sit on the floor, backs against the cabinets, a few drawers pulled out and onto the floor with their contents spilled. Rick lights his husband's cigarette, hands no longer shaking. Daryl's blows the smoke out slowly and rests his head against the white washed and blood stained cabinet.  
"So this is it?"  
Rick can't answer. The words hard in his throat, forming a lump he can't quite swallow. He studies his lover's face as it turns towards him, bright blue eyes half hidden behind discolored lids and red rims.  
The lips he had promised his future too were split, blood drying. The cheeks he had pecked a million kisses onto have been bruised, purples and yellows swirling into galaxies that made his fingers twitch.  
He misses the smile he had painted his husband's face once before. He misses the sweet sound of Daryl's laughter in between gasping pants when they rolled in their bedsheets. He misses the overflowing love that would brim those glowing eyes when they landed on his own.  
Rick lets a tear fall, a small smile spreading across his damaged lips when Daryl's eyes widen slightly. There's still concern in his sweetheart's eyes. He grips Daryl's bleeding hand.  
"No, darling, this is a new beginning."


	5. Southern Gentleman Rick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Told from Shane's POV as he watches Rick and Daryl's relationship blossom from the horrendous trauma that had brought them together.

If anyone was to question wither or not Rick was a true, good old southern boy, all they had to do was listen to him speak to Daryl for an hour.  
When he pulled his lover real close, rough voice dropping into a sugar sweet drawl and every other word being a different, affection laced nickname, it was easy to see. His plump, red lips curled on the ends, wrapping every word in blanket of endearment and eyes soft, brimming with love. Daryl used to blush, used to try to hide his smile when Rick would pull him close, mouth as close to his ear as possible when drawling sweet nothings to him. Watching them now, it's easy to understand why he used to get so flustered.

Rick had a way of speaking that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, in the whole world. His voice and face making you feel like you were the most important person in his life. Even mundane conversations seemed intimate if Rick felt close to you and trusted you.  
Years on the police force, at Rick's side, had made me the focus of those borderline intimate moments and made it easy to pick up on his other mannerisms. The upwards lilt in his speech when he was flustered or telling a joke, the deep, harsh drop in his voice when matters were serious, the way his eyes light up when talking about something he enjoyed. It's been quiet a while since the last time I saw his eyes as bright as they were when he mentioned Daryl.

Now, I was never jealous of Daryl. Every moment me and Rick shared had been as brothers. But watching him now, I longed for someone like him, someone similar.   
I have never heard this version of speech, the sweet as cherry pie drawl, barely above a whisper, and curling upwards at the ends like his lips.  
The small party hasn't stopped, our friends mingling and drinking around us, but Rick doesn't seem to notice anyone except his boyfriend. His hand on Daryl's lower back, speaking softly into his ear while his lover sips from a wine glass and nods along, blue eyes scanning the room full of people. I can hear what he's saying, standing next to my best friend and brother.  
"I'm going to put out more cheese and crackers, ok sweetheart? Your glass is getting low, darling, would you like more wine?"  
"Yes, please, that'd be great. Thank you, Rick."  
"You're welcome, sugar."

It's hard not to laugh. Rick was a true southern boy; all long, bow legs, perfect posture and impeccable manners and respect. The nicknames all came from his heart, each one meant with the upmost respect and affection.  
Darling. Sweetheart. Sugar. Honey. Love. Baby. Angel. Dear. Baby Doll. Kitty. Lovely. Sweetie. Babe. Lover.  
These are just a few of the nicknames I've heard Rick use to refer to Daryl. He doesn't get flustered anymore, two years together and he's accepted that Rick will probably never call him by his real name ever again.  
At first I thought it was a courting game, a means to make his lover blush and giggle when they first started dating, but it never ended. Two years together and Rick still strived to woo his lover daily. He always went above and beyond with Daryl, getting him small gifts and sending sugar sweet text messages and phone calls. I've seen how he greets his boyfriend, tight embraces and a plethora of kisses all over Daryl's face. It was sickening sometimes how in love they were, how in sync they always seemed to be.

Of course, some days are bad. Being an officer isn't the easiest job and some days are a world harder than others and I can see the way Rick cracks. Back slouched, eyes unfocused and dark, hands trembling ever so slightly. I know I don't look much before, not after the hell we walked into at that house. Domestic violence cases were always hard, now for Rick especially. His gentle heart couldn't take it, the bruises on the spouses and the heartbroken look in their eyes.  
"You just...don't do that. How could you hurt the person you love? How could?..."  
For all I did, I could never provide the kind of comfort Rick had needed. He had all but collapsed at Daryl's feet, shoving his face into his lover's stomach and holding him tight. Every shaking sob bringing praises, thanking God that he had Daryl and promising to never become one of those monsters. Daryl had stayed, stroking Rick's hair and hushing him quietly before crouching and wrapping his thin arms around my partners neck.  
It seemed crazy, but it made sense if you understood the circumstance behind Rick and Daryl's relationship.

I hate to think about that day.  
A noise complaint had taken us to the upscale looking apartment and to the residence of Philip Blake. Bloody knuckles had raised some flags and we pushed our way in. I had handcuffed the wealthy, real estate agent while Rick attempted to get the man's lover's out of the bathroom he had locked himself into.  
Covered in bruises and afraid, Daryl had clung to Rick, seeming that he'd never let him go. His face was bloodied and bruised, one eye swollen shut and his ankle broken. Philip had done a number on him, breaking ribs and splitting skin, stomping on his thin ankle so he couldn't escape. It was sick, Daryl hardly being able to walk.  
But Rick had been there, shushing the panicking man and carrying him to the ambulance. Daryl didn't want to let go, his hands gripping Rick's shirt and tears flowing. Rick had gone to the hospital, had stayed the night and taken Daryl home the next day when he was discharged. Philip's apartment had being closed off for evidence and Rick's house seemed like a safe place for the nervous man. Police chief Morgan hadn't been the happiest but he wasn't about to abandon a victim in the streets or a shelter.  
A temporary stay, until Daryl healed and got back on his feet, had turned into a two year long relationship. A nervous, broken man turned into the strong, sweet Daryl we knew now. 

I'll never know how Rick did it, how he convinced the once shaking man to share his bed or to even smile, but he did.  
I know it hadn't been easy, loud noises and Rick's bloody police clothes making him skittish and jumpy. But Rick had been patient, the same soothing words he had used to help Daryl into the ambulance had also calmed his hitched breathing and damp eyes. He had gotten the full story somehow, how Philip would hurt him whenever he lost a sale or if a single thing was out of place at their apartment. I had wondered why he stayed, why he hadn't left.  
Rick had explained that he couldn't leave. That Philip had twisted his mentality until Daryl was afraid; afraid to leave, afraid to speak, afraid to live. That the fear has resonated in his chest and caused his fingers to bleed between his teeth.

Looking at him now, it's so hard to believe.  
The gentle hands now fixing Rick's hair had once trembled so severely he couldn't hold a glass of water. Diamond blue eyes that had once been bloodshot and bruised now shined brighter than the sun. Once split, bloody lips that had sworn to never smile again now turned upwards freely, teeth threatening to show behind the pink.  
He's beautiful. I know he is. I would never steal him, not that I could. His heart belongs to Rick and if it should wander, I'll be damned.  
I've never seen sure a pure love in all my life and I pray to one day know how it feels.

For now I'll just watch. I'll watch as Rick lifts Daryl's hand in a perfect gentlemanly fashion and place the tiniest kiss on his knuckles. I'll watch Daryl giggle and set his wine glass down before wrapping his slender arms around Rick's neck.  
I'll watch the feather light kiss they share and I'll smile, knowing something Daryl doesn't.  
Because I know Rick more than anyone else in this world and I know he has a ring in his pocket. So for now, I'll just watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked it! I've had this Drabble forever and just finished it haha!


	6. Out Sourcing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy so I haven't updated in forever! Im trying to break out of my writing funk and, although I would love to work on my bigger fics, I had to finish this shit Drabble lol
> 
> This chapter is pretty much smut and is mainly Shane/Daryl. It's Rick outsourcing to satisfy his young boyfriend's lust. He cannot keep up so he asks Shane to help out.
> 
> I'm sorry in advance for shitty smut and it not really being Rickyl.

It's so wrong, but he can't look away.

Rick sits on the plush chair, digging his teeth into this knuckle as he watches the scene before him. Shirt left over the back of the seat and pants undone. Boxers pushed down and hand squeezing hard on his member.  
He strokes slowly, legs out stretched and hand moving up and down with his knuckles white and head leaking. He tightens at the base, twisting at the head the same way Daryl does when he teases his older lover.

There's a few differences between him and Daryl. His sweet, sugary boyfriend being a light in the dark life he's lived so far.  
Rick wishes he could keep up, his boyfriend's libido and natural stamina keeping the sheriff on his toes. Daryl's always excited, always eager and his age allowing him to come time and time again and Rick wishes he could satisfy the hunger.  
At the wrong side of 40, the older man is starting to feel his age, as well as see it. His stomach has a pouch, saved exclusively for those after work beers he's much too fond of. Black pepper hair getting its fair share of salt as the days go on. The stress of being an officer has taken its toll but he can't complain with the way Daryl worships him. When his young lover runs his tongue over every possible inch and grips at his strong shoulders, he can't help but love his body.  
Daryl's different, young and tight in his prime. Chestnut hair only growing gold in the sun, not white in age. Rick can't help but envy him, how every inch is strong and far from the squishiness his own muscles have taken. Free in his mannerisms and open with his sexuality, he's exactly what Rick had wishes he has been at that age. Only 23 and breathtakingly beautiful, Rick wants nothing more than to keep his lover as close him as physically possible.

It might have been a fetish.

Rick's need to pleasure his lover conflicting with his body's limit. Daryl's lust and neediness pushing him to wanting Rick every hour of every day. His thin, nimble hands working Rick's belt off every chance he could, despite the officer's soreness. Thin lips working on his own and licking into his mouth as those pale hands grip at heated flesh. His heart always speeds up with Daryl, breath always hitches.  
But he can't keep up. He sees the understanding Daryl's eyes, those brilliant blues turning downward in the disappointment that rips at Rick's heart. The slight downturn of pink lips makes his stomach turn and he hates himself, tears wetting his own Bombay sapphires when the younger man turns away from him at night. He feel stucks sometimes, unable to satisfy Daryl in the way the man needs. So long nights are spent thinking, figuring a way to fix their problem before he loses his lover to his age.

One thing lead to another, and Rick laughs at the phrasing, but he had had to outsource to cure Daryl of his constant ache. He doesn't mind, cock hard and heavy in his hands in a way that he hasn't experienced in a long time as he watches the scene unfold before him.  
Strong hands fastened to thin hips, wicked thighs spread wide and surrounding the broad waist of Rick's best friend. Daryl withers, clutching at the bed sheets as Shane digs deeper, pulling Daryl's body down onto his cock. He's moaning loud, head tossed back and eyes shut. Shane leans over him, huffing and groaning as he drives himself deeper into the young man, big feet digging into the carpet.  
Rick whines, strangling off the noise against his fist when Shane changes their position. He pulls out and Daryl chokes out a sob as the cop flips him over, handling him like a rag doll. Eyes snapping open, his toes search for purchase on the floor when Shane pushes himself back in. Trembling hands grab onto the sheets and Rick watches those parted lips as they shimmer in the low light.

Daryl's a mess, drool collecting on the bed sheet, making a puddle similar to the one below his belly. His cock is pushed against the bed, body held down by Shane's rough hands. It's intoxicating for Rick, watching his boyfriend as he's penetrated, over and over again, by his best friend. He watches Daryl's eyes, the heavy lids covering blown out pupils, blues hidden by the blackness. Shane groans loud as he thrusts hard, lifting Daryl up to his tip toes by his hips. He shouts and locks those dark eyes to Rick's. The sheriff watches as Daryl's mouth goes slack, bliss covering his face. He tries to keep his eyes open, tries to stay locked onto Rick's as his balls draw up and he's coming. Daryl sobs, hiding his face in shaking hands and Rick can't hold it back. The coils in his gut spring out and he's cumming hard, covering his stomach and hands in his own seed.  
Rick tries to catch his breath, signaling to Shane to wrap it up with a simple wave of his finger. Shane nods, smirking as he pushes in one last time before shooting off inside Daryl's body. He pulls out, helping Daryl onto the tarnished bed before removing the condom and tossing it into the waste basket. Running his fingers through his hair, he laughs and shares a smile with his coworker.

They talk easily, Shane all but ignoring the placid body between them. Rick pays attention though, monitoring his boyfriend's breathing as he snuggles deeper into the plush bedding. Sweat covers his scarred back and he's trembling, fingers twitching into the blanket as he hides his face.  
Shane pulls on his pants, leaving his shirt unbuttoned as he exits the bedroom and soon the house. Rick knows his friend is smiling, that goofy grin probably permanently planted on his face.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"  
He sits next to Daryl, rubbing his lover's trembling side. His breathing is evening out, little huffs coming from the mattress as his boyfriend nods.  
"Do you need anything? Water? A bath?"

"No, I'm okay. Th-thank you, Rick."  
Rick smiles, knowing his boyfriend is satisfied, happy in the afterglow. He turns as watches as the last of the sun's rays seep through their shades. When Daryl's breaths get deeper, his mind drifting away as he falls asleep, Rick lays down next to him. He holds Daryl, smiling peacefully as he drifts off to sleep himself.  
Sure, it was probably a kink. But Rick didn't mind, so long as Daryl was satisfied and happy. Not that he minded watching neither.


	7. Hey There Daryl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop writing shitty song drabbles.  
> So I am part of that subsection of society that still loves "Hey There Delilah" and I'm not ashamed.  
> This sucks. Honestly it does but I'm bored af and thought "hey let's write a sad af long distance rickyl au Cuz this song is rad". I shouldn't have but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also sorry for mistakes. If I read this over I know I'll hate it so I'm just posting. Sorry y'all!

Rick lays in bed, chest bare in the blue moon light drifting in front the window as his mind circles with a million distant thoughts. The world seems so far, just past his fingertips and his ribs ache in that cold grip that shakes him from the inside outside. His curls lay in mixed patterns next to him on the pillow, making galaxies in their salt and pepper coloring and reminding him how lonely his mattress feels.  
There's no one there to warm him. No other body pressed close to his with thin arms around his middle and tiny breathes on his collar bones. No brown hair tickling his neck and no hushed whispers in the dead of night.

He grabs the phone, typing the memorized number and hoping the ringing doesn't end in silence.

\---  
"You look beautiful."

"You can't even see me, Rick."

"I know. But you always look beautiful. You know what you do to me."

He continues to walk, the chilly breeze nipping at his face as he holds the phone closer to his ear. The city is silent, not a noise in all five boroughs as Daryl walks along the red brick buildings towards his apartment. His boots click as he walks, shoving his free hand deeper into his pocket and moving from street light to streetlight. The puddles of yellow illuminate his way, the stars hidden behind the city's limits.   
"I miss you."

\---  
"I miss you too." Rick pauses, sitting on his empty, plush bed. His guitar sits in his lap, cigarette balancing at the edge of his ashtray. He's been mindlessly strumming, nothing in particular but knowing how much Daryl enjoys the sound of the worn nickel strings.  
The nights spent together rush into his mind. With his lover relaxed against the various pillows and blankets, thin cigarette between his sugar sweet lips as he strummed and hummed quietly. The words would always come easily, his mind a whirl wind of phrases of how much Daryl meant to him.  
He was always so beautiful. Pale skin stretched over his bones, tiny curves and edges that Rick fit perfectly against. Like pieces of a puzzle but without that awful line that broke the picture up. There were no ridges, no bumps or dips, when they laid together. And when he relaxed against the blankets, hair framing his eager eyes, Rick would play. He would play forever if it continued to take Daryl's breath away.  
"I wrote a song for you."

"You did?"

Rick huffs a small laugh, feeling silly for being nervous for playing for Daryl. His lover adores his songs. Daryl never judged him for his dreams, never doubted that that old guitar would give Rick everything he ever wanted. Maybe it wouldn't provide a comfortable life, but it paid the bills. And every song, no matter how slow or fast, made Daryl smile.  
"I did. Did you want to hear it?"

\---  
Daryl sits on a bench, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. The night continued around him, the sky picking up and dusting the barren streets in flurries. "Of course I want to hear it, Rick. Please play."  
His lover says a quick message of speaker phone before the rustling lets Daryl know it's being placed on the bed. He used to call that bed home but that was a long time ago. Before he moved a thousand miles away from his Georgia home, going north for school. He dreamed big, his art driving forward in the same way Rick's music drove him.  
It was just a thousand miles, give or take. At least, that's what it felt like. When the city's winter circled around him and the gentle strumming and picking of Rick's guitar filled his ear, the distance didn't seem as far. He can close his eyes, letting his lover's rough voice bring him back home and pretending he's in that warm bed. He pretends Rick is next to him, calloused hands striking his sides and moving his full pink lips against his own.

He can't help the tears, silent and steady as they streak his face. Every note takes him back to that small studio apartment, the walls cluttered with painting, photos, and venue posters. Every winter wind takes him back to the cold, isolated city he's stuck in for 2 more years.  
"I love you, Rick."

"I love you too."

\---  
Rick pauses, reaching to the cold side of his mattress. His hand is met by nothingness, the empty tearing his heart in half. Two more years. They can do two years.  
"Are you home?"

"Almost."

"Get home, Daryl. Be safe."

"I will. You get some rest, okay?"

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Oh, and one more thing. You do look beautiful."

Daryl huffs, wiping his tears and knowing no matter what, he has Rick. "Thank you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp . Sorry y'all.


	8. Campfire Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane, Rick, and Daryl go camping and decide to tell scary stories. Let's just say, Daryl wins with the scariest story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so in December, my friend took me on a Haunted Pub Crawl in Asbury Park, NJ to celebrate my birthday and the final story of the night was so terrifying, I had to share it.  
> The story was supposedly true and very unsettling, shaking my drunk ass to the bones and leaving a very prominent dent in my mind lol. It takes place in Asbury Park, on the border between Asbury Park and Ocean Grove. The woman told us the story at the last bar right next to the mentioned bridge and lemme tell you. I was spooked. I kept eyeing the bridge suspiciously.  
> So I decided, what better way to share this story then to have Daryl relay it to Shane and Rick as a creepy camping story??? So, hear you go!!
> 
> !!!!THE STORY IS GRAPHIC AND KIND OF TERRIFYING SO BE WARNED!!!!DONT READ IF YOU GET SCARED EASILY OR ARE AFRAID OF GHOSTS!!!!!!
> 
> Enjoy!!!

"Okay. So, twenty years ago today, there were three guys, just like us, who went camping, in these exact woods, and-"

"Jesus Christ, Shane, is that the best you can do?"

"Fuck off, Rick! It's not like you have any better stories."

Rick laughs, the light of their crackling fire dancing on his face. It highlights his stubble, making him appear older than he really is as it warms them against the nipping chill of the night.  
The fire is small, just enough to provide some light and warmth, even though the trio was dressed in multiple sweaters, and to toast their marshmallows. They sit around it, Shane just across the flames on his own private log while Daryl relaxes next to Rick, his marshmallow hovering over the fire on its long, thin stick. He was letting it cook slow, the outside taking on a golden brown color before he pulls it away, shoving it into his tiny mouth. Shane had not been as patient with his, allowing the fluff to catch fire before blowing it out and scarfing it down, complaining at how it burned his tongue.  
He wonders how delicious Daryl's mouth must taste. If it were anything like his own, with the leftover sugar coating his teeth, it'd be heavenly. He slipped an arm around Daryl's shoulders, tugging his lover closer to share their warmth.

"Ok, ok. I got one. So this couple is out driving in the woods, heading towards a popular make out spot when the radio breaks through-"

"And there was a hook on the door. Come on, Rick! Really? What is this? Amateur hour?" Shane scoffs, putting a new marshmallow on his twig and shoving it directly into the fire's heat.

"Ooh, yeah, cause yours was so believable!" Rick holds the 'so' out, emphasizing how Shane's story had been just as lame. The glare sent his way almost made him laugh out loud, his slightly chapped lips tingling as they spread wide. He held in his snicker as his friend rolled his eyes, knowing that if they weren't as exhausted as they were, they wouldn't probably have been scrapping it out right there in the dirt clearing. The hike out to the camp spot had exhausted them, the midday sun having bared down so hard and high they had jumped into the small stream almost immediately. Clothes had been left abandoned by the shore, their mixed laughter being the only sound in the silent woods.

A soft sigh breaks him from his stare down with Shane, turning to look at his mousey haired boyfriend. "Honestly, you both suck as telling scary stories. I've seen scarier shit on the back of a damn cereal box."

"Ooh yeah? Then, please, enlighten us, Daryl. Why don't you tell a story?" Shane waved his hand sarcastically, turning to point an ear in the man's direction to hear better.

Daryl just huffed, putting his stick down and relaxing further into Rick's embrace. "Have you heard the one of Jane Doe found in the stream during a music festival?"

Rick and Shane glanced at each other, minds racing to recall the story Daryl was about to tell but both coming up empty. Shane broke the silence, "Is this a true story?"

Daryl smirked, "True as can be. Happened in New Jersey. Can't say we're nearby there but hey, still creepy. Merle was actually there when it happened. Went to visit a friend up north and they saw it and heard the stories afterwards." It was true. Georgia was a long way from the infamous mafia stomping grounds. And Merle had been at the festival, having called home to tell Daryl the story and ranting about it once he had headed back down south.  
He chuckles, remembering how Merle had corralled him on the couch, filling his ear with the grisly details and even scarier stories that came afterwards.

"Ok then. Tell away!" Shane leaned forward, elbows on his knees to hear the story, Rick turning to watch his love's face as he spoke.

"Ok, so it happened on the border of these two towns, bridged together by a walkway over a shallow creek. There was a music festival going on and people were everywhere, on each side of the bridge and on it, when all of a sudden, a woman yells. She's pointing at the creek and when everyone turns, there's a body just floating there, dead.

Now, dead bodies wash ashore all the time, especially considering this was an ocean town and where a lot of mafiosos dumped their victims but this was different. The water was only about three feet deep, not really deep enough to drown unless it was on purpose. But I'll get back to that. They took DNA and fingerprints but nothing came up, not a single clue on who she was or how she ended up in the water, unreported, for at least 32 hours.

At first, police ruled it as an accidental death, believing the woman may have been drunk or high and simply drowned. But this was fake. She had no alcohol or other substances in her system and seemed to have self defense wounds on his arms and hands. So then it was decided it was murder. But who killed her?  
No one reported any sightings of the woman or any strange persons before the estimated death and there was no evidence to go off of. She was a true, classic Jane Doe."

Daryl smirks, watching as Rick and Shane's faces paled. Being officers, they understood how these incidents occurred and how easy it was nowadays to discover Jane or John Doe's identity. With all the technology and computer programs, it was almost impossible to be completely off the grid, especially in such a populated area. "Now," he pauses, "this is where it gets truly terrifying.

The case was eventually closed, left unsolved and ruled a possible gang murder or suicide. But the towns people cannot forget the story because, apparently, this woman's spirit remains near that bridge. Now, this is the only case of an apparition appearing in two forms, depending where you stand. If you stand on one side of the bridge, you hear her screaming. She screams for help and you can walk up and down the creek but you do not see her. And that town's police station reports calls coming in, every night during the summer, of residents hearing a woman scream and scream and scream, but there is never anybody there. The police will come out and shine their flashlights up and down the waterway before telling the townsfolk, 'I'm sorry, but you cannot help her.'"

Daryl watches as Rick and Shane's eyes grow dark with sadness. They may be policemen but they are still human. He cannot imagine how hard it would be for his big hearted friends to have to tell someone that they cannot help somebody, even if she is a ghost. He feels Rick's hand tighten on his shoulder, pulling him closer as they link their other hands in a form of reassurance and affection.  
But Daryl smirks, knowing the sadness will soon be replaced by true fear.

"And now the most terrifying part. People say, if you stand on the other side of the bridge, you do not hear her. Instead, you see her pale form as she attempts to pull herself out of the water and crawls towards you, looking for help. Her mouth hangs opens, like she's screaming or gasping for air, but no sound comes out."

He feels as the shudder runs through Rick's body, his arm trembling a bit where it wraps around his shoulders, and watches as a similar shiver courses through Shane. He giggles, enjoying the pale faces of his friend and boyfriend, and loving how he was the one to scare them. He knew they were shaking in their boots, the same thing having happened to him when Merle had told him the story. "Scary, huh?"

He knows Shane wants to retort, his big mouth opening in a possible snarky reply before it snaps shut. Always a jokester, he had expected Shane to mock him, possibly calling bullshit, but he hadn't expected this. Pride ran through him. He had succeeded. He had told the scariest story and put Shane's money where his damn mouth was.

"That-that story's real?" Rick whispered, his eyes lingering on the slowly dying flames before them.

"Cross my heart." He ran his fingers over his heart, marking an x to validate his claims. He watched as Shane gathered his thoughts, seeming uneasy now as he sat alone across the fire pit.

"Would you guys mind if we shared a tent tonight?" Shane scoffed, trying to save face before continuing. "Not that I'm scared! I'm just-just...concerned you two might be too spooked to sleep! You know?"

Daryl chuckled, "Sure, Shane. You can stay with us tonight."

"Yeah, that uh..might be a good idea." Rick chimed in, his face still stained in fear. "Should we head in?"

Shane stood quickly, wiping his obviously sweaty hands on his pants. "Yeah, sounds good. Let's go."

Daryl laughed, standing and offering a hand to his shaken boyfriend. "You two are so funny." He couldn't help but laugh as the two men followed him into the tent, both pressing close to him in the darkness and asking every few minutes if the story was still true.  
As sleep pulled his eyes shut, he gave up and told them the story was fake (even though it was actually true, as far as Merle had claimed) just so he could get some shut eye. And as the two men sighed and relaxed into their sleeping bags, he couldn't help but smile.

Camping was always fun to Daryl, but friendly competition between fireside stories always made it better. And that night, he had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed it!! Enjoy the nightmares ;D


	9. Boring Night at the Precinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a boring night at the precinct where Rick and Shane are the only ones on duty along with the receptionist, Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't posted in a while lol sorry! Here's something to hold y'all over til I actually write something haha! Love you all!!

Rick suppressed a yawn as he walked into the King Country Police Station, running his hand down his face and putting on a content smile. He used to hate this shift, the typical 9 to 5 fast forwarded into the late night instead of the early morning. When the sky darkened for sleep, Rick and his partner of 5 years, and friend of much, much longer, Shane, would head into the precinct and patrol they're sleeping town.  
It was an easy job, working nights where the most interesting thing they might hope to see was either a HighSchool party with illegal booze or a family of possums attempting to walk across the street in hopes of a snack. And he'll admit, he and Shane kept a bag of old crackers in their squad car in case the possums happened to be near them and hungry.

He smirks as he approaches the front desk, ready to clock in and talk to the night time receptionist with gorgeous blue eyes and a devilish smirk on thin lips.

"Hello there, darling." Rick smiles, swiping his badge and entering his PIN number to clock into his incredibly boring shift.

"Good evening, Officer Grimes." Daryl smiled back, finishing up an email and pushing his head phone mouth piece down and away from his sugar sweet lips. "Anything I can get you before your shift? Officer Walsh is already at his desk, just finishing up some paper work before you two head out."

Rick smiles and leans on the desk, bracing himself on his elbows and letting his eyes roam over his "office boyfriend" as Shane so often called Daryl. He was dressed in similar clothes as Rick, his uniform almost identical minus the gun belt, badge, and tailored fit. The shirt was fine, fitting comfortably over his broad shoulders but the pants a little looser due to a recent ordering mishap. Thank goodness for his belt though. Or maybe not, he thinks with a dirty smile.  
He chuckles a bit, "Well I could definitely go for a coffee. Two sugars, splash of milk. And if you're so inclined, a kiss would mean the world to me, sweetheart."

Daryl scoffs and Rick's smile doesn't falter when he sees the light blush across the man's cheeks before he turns and stands to go to the coffee machine behind him. "In your dreams, Grimes."

Rick fakes a gasp, "How do you know what I dream about? Are you a psychic, Daryl?"

Daryl laughs as he turns back, handing the coffee to Rick and shaking his head. "You are too much, you know that?"

"You love it." He smirks and winks, takes a sip and loving how the man had become a pro at fixing his coffee. "Anyway, anything come up or has it been quiet?"

Daryl sat back and looked over a few papers, humming quietly. "Hmm, no. Seems like another quiet one. Hell, seems like no calls in the last two hours except for Bennet locking himself out of the squad car."

The men chuckle, Rick shaking his head. "I can't believe that guy sometimes."

"How he ever became a cop, I have no idea."

"Hm!" Rick swallowed another sip before pointing at Daryl, "Which reminds me! How come you haven't signed up for training, darling? Don't you wanna be patrolling? Could get you into the car with me, you know."

"Ooh gosh, no," Daryl laughs, "I'm good here with my papers and radio. I don't think I could be out on the front line, too stressful." He waves his hand at the flirtatious officer, "Plus, I don't trust you to do your job if I were to sit next to you all night. Damn, pervert."

"Hmm, I hear ya." He exaggerates a sighs before stepping back away from the desk as Shane comes out from the back. "Hey, man, how's it going?" He shakes his best friends hand, "You ready?"

"Hell yeah. If there's anything worse than night shifts, it's paperwork on night shifts." Shane rubbed large hands over his eyes and shakes the sleepiness away, "Alright, you good here, Daryl?"

"Yep! See you guys in a bit."

"Alrighty, see you later, beautiful." Rick winks again as Daryl rolls his eyes and shoos them away with a gentle 'get outta here', no heat behind the words.

\---  
"How fast you think that bat is flying?" Rick asks, aiming his radar gun to try and catch the animal in motion above their car.

Shane huffs next to him, eyes closed and hoping to have caught a few z's during their shift. "Who cares?"

"I do." Rick huffs when he couldn't catch it, leaning back in his driver side seat. This was the true definition of boredom. The dashboard clock read 11:32pm and he silently cursed, having wished the time to go faster so at the very least they could head back to the precinct for their "lunch" at midnight.

The town was silent, not a damn soul even thinking about moving and the only car to have crossed their path had been from out of state and was well in the speed limit. Crickets and cicadas sang, the occasion toad croaking but even he seemed exhausted, only making his mating call once every few minutes.  
Shane dozed next to him, snoring quietly and leaving Rick in the midst of a mind numbing silence. The nearby radio station had shut off its waves and sat with dead air in the car.

He runs his hands through his hair, too caffeinated by his coffee to sleep and too tired to actively find the energy to at least drive. They're parked out by the swamp, the small road usually being busy at night compared to the side streets with cold cars in the chilly night Georgian air. He picks up his radio, turning the dial low so it won't be loud enough to wake his partner.

"Hey, Daryl. You there? It's Rick."

The static lingers a moment, cracking quietly before the sugar sweet drawl comes back through. "Hey, Ricky, I'm here. Something happen?"

He pushed the button and sighs, "Wish I could say yes but no. It's dead out here and I swear I'm going crazy."

He listens to the static before it breaks, a slight crunching sound coming through before the man speaks. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Ehh, nothing you can do." He pauses and smiles, "You eating something?"

Daryl hums into the radio, "Yeah, got some chips."

Rick chuckles, careful to keep his voice low. "And you didn't save me any? How could you? And here I thought you were my perfect lil wife."

"In your dreams, Grimes." Daryl crunches on the chips, having needed a small snack to soothe his rumbling tummy and to keep him awake. He listens to Rick laugh over the transmitter, smiling despite himself.

"You seem to know all my dreams, don't you, sugar?"

Daryl laughs, loving the idle chitchat he has between the them. Rick is a good friend, one of the best cops he's ever seen and definitely one of the better men he's gotten to meet. He won't admit the way his chest feels when Rick winks and calls him those sweet pet names, not ready to cross the line between friend and lover even if he was pretty sure Rick could back up all of his silly comments  
He'd only started working for the station a year back, after the very same cop he flirted with had helped him turn his life around. Daryl had been at his wits end, calling job after job and handing in applications only to be rejected time and time again. He needed to keep the apartment he had shared with his brother before the dumbass went and got himself thrown in jail again for drug possession. Nobody hired him until he had swallowed his pride and entered the police station, talking to the blue eyed, bow legged beauty that he now knew as Officer Grimes. The cop had offered a smile and said he'd speak to a Chief Morgan and attempt to sway his judgement.

He had done it. Somehow he persuaded the chief to accept the application on the grounds that Rick would work more nights along side the new receptionist. Shane also working nights came naturally as the two men were almost inseparable. The flirting came afterward, Rick getting more forward and confident whenever he could make Daryl blush and as much as the brown haired man wished it weren't true, he blushed a lot at Rick's words. And if he could rile the officer up right back, well then it was all good in his mind.

"It's getting kind of close to your lunch time. Why don't y'all head back and I'll cook us up a nice warm meal of fried rice and sesame chicken."

"Hmm, sounds wonderful. We'll be back in a few. Order some lo mein for Shane, will ya?"

"Ok, handsome. See you soon."

\---  
"Where's Shane?" Daryl asked, hand stilling as he opened the Chinese food containers from the only place still open across town.

Rick sighed, "He's dead asleep in the squad car. Didn't wake up when I drove or when I tried to shake him so fuck it." He shrugged, "If he wants to sleep then let him. More Chinese for me!"

Daryl chuckled and jumped up onto the front desk, crossing his legs and glad to be seated somewhere that wasn't that horrid squishy office chair most likely from the late 80's. God that thing was old and it squeaked like a damn crypt, stubborn springs always breaking through the cushion and stabbing Daryl in the ass. "Ooh well. You locked the door right?"

He watched as Rick removed his gun belt, putting off to the side before hopping up on the desk as well, across from Daryl. "Of course, darling. Wouldn't let anything happen to our boy." He laughed, "Even cracked the window some so he won't suffocate."

They both chuckled, digging into the Chinese food and keeping up east chattering, basking in the sense of calm that came with an empty police station at midnight on a Wednesday. With most of the lights out and no one to tell them to hop off the low, hard desk, the men were able to eat contently and joke around; Rick even going so far as to stick his chopsticks in his mouth to resemble a walrus, causing Daryl to "almost" shoot soda out of his nose.

"You're too much, Grimes."

"You love it."

Daryl smiled, heart beating a bit too fast when Rick winked at him. His uniform felt warm, skin almost crawling and he ached to lean forward and slide into Rick's lap. He wanted to kiss the man silly and ride him til dawn right on the desk he called home most nights, not caring about important papers or "work place etiquettes".

"You okay?"

Daryl stared back at Rick, face feeling too warm and he wanted to run and hide. "Uh, yeah! Why?"

Rick leaned forward, reaching and touching at Daryl's forehead carefully. "You're flushed. Do you have a fever?" He hummed a bit, moving down to the receptionist's cheek before cupping his throat. "You're not warm, though."

Daryl knew he had to breathe, his lungs straining and he sat still as Rick kept his hand on his neck, thumb stroking softly at his jaw. "I-I.."

Somehow, Rick seemed to know what wrong. His eyes widened before relaxing into a half lidded sultry stare as he licked his lips. He etched for slowly, making sure to give Daryl enough time to stop it before it happened. But the man sat still, barely breathing as the officer slide his lips against his own. They locked together perfectly and although Daryl hated those cheesy goddamn metaphor of puzzle pieces and ocean waves, he suddenly understand what all those hot air filled poets were talking about.  
He sighed quietly, opening his lips with a gentle whimper as Rick locked across his lower lip. The granted access wasn't taken lightly, the officer swirling his tongue in a way that Daryl was unsure was absolutely filthy or divinely pure but had pulled a soft moan from somewhere deep in his body.  
Rick's hand didn't move from his neck, his rough thumb pressing tiny circles in Daryl's skin. His other hand came forward to hold Daryl's, dropping his chopsticks and uncaring if they hit the dirty flood with wooden click clacks. He turned his hand over, hoping Rick didn't mind how it shook as they laced their fingers together, awkward in the way their wrists twisted in front of their bodies.

It was heavenly, Daryl thought, as he kissed Rick in the dark police station, cross legged atop the concrete filled desk. When everyone, including Rick's partner, was asleep, the men kissed and moaned, tongues exploring and tasting what they had only hoped to have felt in the weeks and months prior. How long had he felt this way for Rick? Did it matter? Not with the cop was flicking his muscle against the roof of Daryl's mouth. God, he could die like this. With his hand in Rick's and his tongue in his mouth, holy fuck-

"Whoa!"

They broke apart as stared towards the door, eyes wide and faces flushed at Shane. The man stood in the doorway, one hand on the door handle and the other laying lazily at his hip. His eyes still looked sleepy, eyebrows almost hitting his hairline as he smirked at the two men sitting on the front desk. "Took y'all long enough!"

Rick spoke first, clearing his throat as Daryl looked away blushing hard, hand coming up to hide his face. "Wh-what are you talking about, Shane?"

Shane laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the empty precinct. "Me and Morgan have been guessing when y'all would've hook up. And at just under a year, seems like I'm the winner!" Shane walked over to clap the still red faced Rick on the back, smiling sweetly at the distressed and bright coloring on Daryl's own. "Aww, now don't be shy, Daryl! You helped me win $25!"

Rick baulked at Shane, shaking his head at the idea that his own chief had actually bet on this stupid wager. He huffed and turned back to Daryl, cupping his tiny hand and giving it a small kiss, smiling when the man looked up at him with brilliant blue eyes. "Hey, if Morgan was willing to bet on this, might as well make it worth his wild, you know? Might as well make it official. How about dinner on Friday?"

Daryl smiled a bit, lopsided and a lil crooked but stunning in all the same ways. "Yeah, yeah, of course. I'd love too."

Rick's smile widened, every damn perfect tooth on display as he chuckled and ignore the stupid look on Shane's face as he watched them whisper. "Hell, maybe after Friday you'll be willing to be my lil wife after all."

The receptionist just blushed, waving his free hand in Rick's direction and speaking with no ounce of heat or denial. "In your dreams, Grimes."

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!!! Thank you and I love u all!!!


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